is
the mist rising
in the morning,
from green fairways
covered with fresh dew.
A flock of black Iwa birds
circling over a pond
brimming
with purple and pink lily pads,
beneath a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds,
while gentle trade winds
provide a welcoming breeze,
fanning my skin
heated by my enthusiasm.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Featured Post
Sleeping with Giants
Sleeping with Giants Inside the Mind of a Maniacal Minion, or What It Means to Be Super-Intelligent I can’t help myself they’re coming fro...
-
Dancing To My Own Tune xxxxx Ear buds inserted xxxxx Pushing lawnmower xxxxx over green carpeted hill. Planting My Garde n xxxx ...
-
It occurs to me That I require an ideal To summit these peaks. Something more than a patch. My tenacity shouts above my perception Shooting ...
-
I Want More: A Survivor’s Declaration I am the child of an alcoholic. The wife of an abuser. The mother of an addict. And let me tell you so...
No comments:
Post a Comment